Rebecca Raisin - Christmas At The Café

“So you heard from that snake?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

And there it is again: Joel, the total mood killer. “Not a peep. I can’t believe I wasted so much time with a man like him.” It’s so hard to see what I found attractive in him, now that I have Damon to compare him to. “I must have been a dumb fool not to see him for what he really is.”

She glances at me, her face softening. “You ain’t dumb or a fool, Lil. The heart sees what it needs to see. You ever think that maybe it happened the way it did was so when that fine-looking thing came into your life you could recognize real love? Plus, you still so young, not even thirty, you got the rest of your life to spend with a real man. One who adores you just the way you are. Gloop-less, baggy clothed, and ponytailed.”

I laugh. “Amen to that.” I just can’t be that girl that gets excited about hair and make-up. And form-fitting clothes are just not me. Jeans and tees are about as fancy as I get most days. Cee’s always at me: “Let down those gorgeous blond curl o’ yours, show off that figure.” It feels wrong, though, as if I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. Plus I can’t see straight when I’ve got that amount of gloop on my face. Feels like glue drying and I can’t stand it.

“So what you think Joel gonna do?”

I try to keep the worry from my voice. “Don’t rightly know. I just want him gone. Out of my life for good.”

“Me too, sugar plum, me too.”

People wave as they stroll past, some with an eyebrow raised seeing CeeCee and me lazing on the sofa as if we’re on holiday.

“Did you hear from Janey, yet?” I ask idly.

CeeCee jumps up. “No, not yet.”

I watch her retreating back, and wonder what the heck she’s not telling me. Seems like we’re both guilty of keeping secrets.

***

The phone rings, startling me awake. From my bed the alarm clock reads 5.49. Time to get up anyway. I shake the grogginess away, and answer. “Hello?”

“You got the money, yet?”

I flop back in the bed and close my eyes. Thankfully Damon’s side of the bed is empty so he doesn’t have to hear this. I reach out and feel the groove in the mattress where he sleeps; it’s cold to touch. It makes me anxious we’re not spending our mornings together all of a sudden.

“Well?” Joel says again, interrupting my train of thought.

I exhale all the hurt and the worry in one long gust of breath. “I can give you three thousand, Joel. But that’s all I have. And it’s more than you deserve.” I don’t mention the festival proceeds just in case he agrees on my paltry savings. Paltry to him, certainly not to me. But there’s no way I’ll be handing over any cash until I hear back from Mr Jefferson.

“You’re just going to have to sell, then, Lil. I’m not playing a game here. I’m serious. I’ll give you one more day to organize something or I’ll file with a lawyer,” he threatens.

“One day? This isn’t a movie, Joel.”

“Don’t be smart, Lil. In the meantime, I’d hate to see a fuse blow at your precious café. Imagine that — all your fridges off for the night…all those cakes for the festival, ruined. You’ve got one day.” He slams down the phone.

I let out a barrel of expletives and only wish Joel were still on the phone to hear them.

***

CeeCee’s at the café when I arrive, slamming her palms into pastry dough as if it’s a punching bag.

“Why are you here so early?” I ask.

“Thought I’d make a start on these pies.”

“Sure, but you didn’t need to come in early. Let me help.”

I take a ball of dough.

“Damon left early this morning too. Hope it’s not my morning breath that’s scaring him away.”

“Hmm, don’t think it’s that,” CeeCee says.

“Do you think it’s weird, Cee? That he’s been leaving in the morning without me? We usually have coffee and mosey on down together. Now he’s up and gone before I’m even awake.”

CeeCee looks at me sternly. “What you gettin’ at?”

I shrug. “I just hope Joel hasn’t made him rethink things, that’s all.” I’m not used to the range of emotions that swim inside me, when it comes to Damon. I almost want to cling to him, because he’s so much more than I’ve ever had.

She tuts and tosses down the dough. “So Damon’s left early a couple days this week? Days Charlie’s been here? Kids that age are up before sparrows, that’s what it is. I seen the way you two carry on — all that huggin’ and kissin’ you do when you think no one’s watchin’…”

A blush rises up my cheeks. “Whoops.”

“Yeah, whoops, all right.” She sighs, big and dramatic. “Young love, it’s a beautiful thing.”

“Young? Why, thanks, Cee. Has Mr Jefferson called back yet?” I pummel the pastry.

“Nope,” she says. “And I checked that fangled machine for messages, nothin’.”

“Joel called this morning, said I have one day to sort something out. He’s really hamming up that whole bad-guy act.” I don’t mention his threat about the fuses — CeeCee would be at Old Lou’s before I could say boo.

“One day? What you s’posed to do in one day?”

I shrug. “Exactly.”

CeeCee grunts, and shakes her head. “Put it out of your mind, sugar. Oh, before I forget, another delivery of chocolate buttons arrived. We can get started on the rest of the Easter eggs. I thought we could fill up the smaller ones with some zany flavors for kids, like sherbet, that kinda thing. What you think?”

“Sherbet? Sounds amazing!”

“Folks certainly won’t find that anywhere else. I wanted to leave early today on account of running some errands.”

“Errands? You want me to do them?” I usually help CeeCee with her shopping because she doesn’t own a car.

“No, no,” she says quickly. “Just some things I need to sort out. It won’t take long.”

“OK. Take your time, Cee. I thought I’d organize those make-at-home choc-chip cookies in a jar, for the festival.”

CeeCee wraps the balls of dough in cling film, and sets them in the fridge to rest. “You want me to pick up some pretty ribbons to tie around them while I’m out?”

“Sure.”

***

After the lunch rush, I walk out to the office to return Mr Jefferson’s call. He phoned earlier when we were knee-deep in customers, and I could tell by the tone of his voice the news wasn’t good.

“Mr Jefferson, it’s Lil.”

He sighs, a long drawn-out sound. “Lil, I got some bad news. He’s wrapped you up tight with this. By the looks you’re going to have to pay him. From what I can see, the loan has gone through his dad’s business, so technically you owe the twenty thousand, plus interest.”

“Even though his dad’s passed on?”

“Yes, ma’am. Seems Joel is the beneficiary of his dad’s estate, and is chasing everyone who still owes them. Not that there’s many with anything tangible left. They got some nerve, that family, sending people broke with the amount of interest they charged. No one could afford that kind of money. They preyed on desperate people.”

I rest my head against the cool of the wall. “That they did. What should I do? See about getting a loan…”

Mr Jefferson clears his throat. “We can see about getting a payment plan of some type. There’s a host of things we can legally do. You can fight it, it’s just the cost of that if you lose…”

“No, I don’t have the energy to fight him. Let’s see about some kind of payment terms, then. You think you can hold him off for a little while?”

“I do, Lil. Let me contact him, and see about negotiating.”

Chapter Nine

We’ve made over a hundred small eggs, filled with various flavored luscious ganaches to replenish our stock for the last time before the festival. We dust the tops of each egg with colored sugar crystals to differentiate the flavors.